Gibbs Pain
by shurfine
Summary: Even in my blinding hysteria of worrying for my daughter, I could tell this man was haunted. My blurry, red tear filled eyes did nothing to hide that fact. One shot Re-edited


Even in my blinding hysteria of worrying for my daughter, I could tell this man was haunted. My blurry, red tear filled eyes did nothing to hide that fact.

I noticed the fleeting look of heartbreak pass over his face as he saw my breakdown when I was being told they had no idea where my daughter was. It was in his whispered words promise he would find her in time, his emotions shown in his eyes as he told me he would make them pay before he shielded them off from everyone. I looked at him and knew at once... If my daughter was ever found, it would be this man who would do it. He would never let up, would never give up until I was once again united with my little angel. And I knew that if he didn't, it would be just another ghost that followed him around, undetterred by whispered words of comfort from friends. Because he would always hold onto her memory, it would always be pushing against this man's memory, an ever present hiss into his ear, telling him how he had failed. His past, and now I would be agonizing him daily if he did not succeed.

So now, my tears dried slightly, the redness moved from my eyes... Because I knew that this man would spare no mercy for the men who had took my daughter. I watched him leave, driving off quickly, taking the corner to fast. A man who was ran by his past to do justice for the future. I sat at the window softly, leaning back into the plush chair which I gained no comfort from. I placed the phone in my lap, waiting for the call, or even a car pulling up into my driveway to tell me my daughter was dead. It was ironic. In one hand I held the line that would tell me my daughter was alive, and in the other, would tell me she was dead. A picture of her sat in front of me, the same one I had given to the man to find my daughter. Her vibrant green eyes were looking at me, her nose crinkled as she smiled wildly. Her front tooth was missing and you could see her messy hair that she refused to brush before the photo.

I don't know how long it has been, hours maybe, but the urge to go to the bathroom made me move. But then I was back to sitting, waiting, praying for a call. This is what startled me from my fearful reverie. The contrast of the vibrant ringing in the silent room was piercing. My hands found the phone and I clicked the button, smashing the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I asked, my voice shaky, hoarse. My eyes snapped to the clock. It had been nearly a day and a half, and I had felt every second of it.

"Your daughter is alive... She's here at NCIS." The mans voice said, like a beautiful melody to my ears. They were the words I had been waiting to hear. I felt my body sag in relief, my mouth spewing out a sigh of relief as the phone slipped out of my fingers. It wasn't until my feet touched the ground that I realized I was running to the car, then speeding down the highway and turning into NCIS.

My daughter was alive. And that alone made me speed up again.

Just blissfully _alive_.

I was running again, through the building, eyes desperately searching for my daughter. I took the stairs two at a time, mostly because I was so eager, I couldn't wait for the elevator. I broke through the door, running to the office I knew she would be at, because I was her mother, and I knew my daughter.

There she was, a little dirty but safe, playing with the man. The smile on his face showed and old wound that he still wasn't over, but he was still happy. Tears came to my eyes as I whispered my daughters' name. She turned with wide eyes, seeing me. The look of relief and unstoppable happiness that passed over my face was seen by the man and he turned fully to watch the reuniting unfolding.

"Mommy!" The shrill cry was all to familiar and I ran forward, scooping my little girl into my arms crushing her against my body. The little hands scraped at my neck as they held on as tight as they could. My eyes sought the mans and could see the longing look pass fleetingly over his face before it was hidden behind hooded eyes. I stepped closer, putting a hand on his shoulder, daughter still in a tight grip. He looked up at me.

"Thank you..." My voice was soft, showing all the thanks I could offer in the broken two word phrase. "And I am sure... Whatever happened in your past, they forgive you." My voice was sure, driving away the ghosts that plagued him. For a little while hopefully. Because it was the least I could do for this man who had saved my daughter. No... That is a lie. Because it is what he deserved, and I would gladly continue saying those words as long as the memories were plagueing him. And if they were ever present, so was I. This man was a fighter, a savior.

This man is Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and he is my hero.


End file.
